Seven Months
by Jessibelle811
Summary: Being engaged to a princess isn't always all it's cracked up to be. Especially when there are so few opportunities to be alone. Cedfia one-shot. *6/17 Re-posted and newly beta-ed.
Author's Note: I have no explanation for this. It just showed up on the doorstep of my brain today, like a stray puppy begging for a home.

The setup, such as it is, is that Cedric and Sofia are engaged. They have been intimate before, but now that they are officially engaged, they have to submit to a courtship period of a year in which all interactions are chaperoned. But, naughty dears that they are, they found an opportunity to slip away.

This was beta-read by Scarlet Willows. And a big thank you to her for doing so. :)

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 **Seven Months**

By Jessibelle811

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Her bloomers were still caught on one ankle, while her other leg was wrapped around his hip. Her skirts were pushed up to her waist in the best approximation of intimacy they could afford on such short notice, and on borrowed time. Despite the need for haste, Cedric kept his thrusts slow and measured, working her into a frenzy of anticipatory desire. It had been too damn long, and he was determined to make the best of a Carpathian hell of a bad situation.

Seven months. Seven. Fucking. Months. Sofia was his fiancé, and to his way of thinking that was good enough, but not so for the stuffy prudes of the aristocracy. Whoever deemed that royal couples should be put through the paces of a one year of courtship, _chaperoned courtship_ , he hoped that person had died a slow and painful death. Preferably after years of involuntary celibacy.

Today they had been afforded a minor miracle and they both saw the opportunity immediately, sneaking off together with barely a word spoken aloud between them. It worried him briefly that she appeared to have adopted some of his more unsavory morals.

When he arrived for the ... Autumn Solstice? Fall Festival? Harvest Day? He wasn't sure what occasion was being celebrated this time. The damn Royals had so many holidays and flimsy excuses for parties that he found it impossible to keep up. All he knew was that Enchancia was having a celebration and, as the princess's husband-to-be, he was expected to attend. He hardly had the opportunity to get his work done these days for all these blasted functions that he had very little interest in. The only diversion he truly desired was being with his fiancé.

And seeing her like this— cheeks flushed, eyes bright, lips parted in pleasure— was the best diversion of all. Merlin's Mushrooms, he needed this.

She kissed his cheek, her tongue flicking out to taste the corner of his jaw. He panted in her ear, nibbling on the lobe before thrusting his tongue against the sensitive spot just behind. She groaned, straining to be quiet. Perched precariously as she was on the edge of her dressing table, he angled her leg further up, allowing deeper access for the slow grind of his hips.

"As much as I'm, _ah_ , enjoying this," she gasped, "we don't, _oh_ , have much—"

He silenced her with a kiss, knowing begrudgingly she was correct; they didn't have nearly as much time as he would like. Snaking a hand between them, he used his fingertips to massage the swollen bud hidden in her folds. If they were forced to haste, he was damn well going to assure that she enjoyed herself as much as he did. His pace picked up, making her groan deep in the back of her throat.

A prim knock sounding at the door startled them both.

"Please tell me it's locked," Cedric whispered with desperate fright. He didn't care much for his own dignity, spending the majority of his life embarrassed, but he didn't want anyone but himself seeing Sofia this way.

"Of course," she chided quietly. "Besides, Violet wouldn't just barge—"

"Princess Sofia, are you in there?"

It wasn't Violet. Baileywick's crisp tones startled her enough that she attempted to jerk away from his grasp, but he held her firm.

Cedric hissed between his teeth. He knew that for Sofia being caught in such an intimate moment by the aging steward was tantamount to being discovered in the throes of passion by her own grandfather. But, _seven goddamn months_... He'd be damned before he'd be cock-blocked by Baileywick, of all people.

Sofia squirmed with embarrassment, the action causing her to rub against him in a rather delightful way in their current position. An idea struck him and he smiled, full of wicked intent. Pressing slowly forward, his hips nestled flush to her parted thighs. She choked on a whimper, her eyes promising that a swift and deadly retribution was in his near future.

He ignored her glare, dipping his head to nibble the spot on her neck that he knew drove her wild. His busy fingers stroked her clit while his deeply set hips rotated in a wicked circle, stirring her insides to liquid fire.

Another knock had him biting back a muttered oath. "Princess?"

"Cedric," she whispered frantically, her voice high and breathless, "perhaps...I should— _Ugh!_ "

Caught on the cusp of a truly phenomenal orgasm, her hips bucked as a chain of trembling spasms wracked her slender body. The motion was rather delightful, slipping him deeper into her quivering warmth, but, he'd been unprepared for it; his bracing hand slipped on the tabletop, knocking aside a basket of assorted baubles. It tumbled to the floor with a resounding crash.

"Fuck," Cedric growled. He pulled out of her quickly, pressing her skirts down even before righting his own trousers. They couldn't afford to be discovered now.

"Princess? Is everything alright in there?" The steward's voice rose with concern. The sound of his master key touching the lock was unmistakable. "I'm coming in."

The elderly steward peered into the princess's suite, stepping inside with reserved alarm. What he saw had him blinking in apparent confusion.

"Oh, Baileywick," Sofia smiled brightly, her face flushed, "I'm glad you're here."

He glanced about the room, seeking an explanation for the curious noise that preceded his entrance. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. "Is everything all right, your highness?"

Pressing a palm to her forehead, she blinked with apparent pain. "Silly me. I was hurrying to get ready for the festival and in my haste I tripped. I think I may have hit my head on the dressing table. Do I have a lump?"

Below the table, he saw the tumbled disarray of an upset basket, miscellaneous ribbons, and baubles littering the floor. Snapping to attention, he adjusted his glasses, inspecting the smooth, unblemished skin where she held her bangs aside. "I don't see a mark. Would you like me to fetch the royal physician just to be sure?"

"That's not necessary. I'm sure it's nothing. I feel fine."

"But a head injury could be quite—"

"Thank you for your concern," she said with stressed sincerity, "but I don't think that's necessary."

"At least let me clean up this mess for you," he insisted.

Sofia waved him away. "Oh, I can take care of that. Besides, Cedric should be here soon and I'm quite anxious to see him."

"Your fiancé, of course." Though he'd never do such a thing in her presence, Sofia could _hear_ the eye roll in his voice. He smiled showed a subtle amount of chagrin. "Your parents grew anxious about where you went. I'll tell them you'll be down directly."

"Yes, please. I'll just fix my makeup. I won't be a moment."

He bowed smartly, not betraying a hint of disbelief in her story. When he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him, Sofia bolted it shut before hurrying to the closet. Throwing those doors open wide, she found Cedric surrounded by a sea of lace, satin, and organdy ruffles, teasing a scrap of ribbon between his fingers.

"When in the world would you ever have the occasion to wear this many dresses?" he drawled. "Even with all the blasted parties you rich people like to throw."

She snickered, enjoying the sight of his tall, dark frame against the backdrop of pastel feminine dainties. "We'd better get going. We still have to sneak back downstairs without being seen."

He dropped the ribbon, drawing her towards him with a hand about her waist. "Aren't you forgetting something?" His other hand appeared from behind his back, her lace trimmed drawers dangling from his pinky.

She flushed, the very picture of feminine modesty, and made a grab for her bloomers. He held them easily out of reach, using his long limbs to his shameless advantage. "Give me those," she protested.

"Uh, uh, uh, not so fast. I don't believe we're quite done here, yet." He dropped her undergarments, reaching for her skirts with both hands.

Even as she tried to squirm out of his grasp, she giggled. "We can't. We have to get back."

"Easy for you to say," he licked her ear, eliciting a soft moan. "You got yours, but what about me?"

She tried to protest. They were indeed on borrowed time, but he stuck out his lower lip, batting his eyes in puppyish innocence. A few years ago she would have thought such a look impossible on his face, but she'd learned much about him since then. She knew things that others did not, saw a side of him that no one else saw. Her resolve softened.

"I suppose that depends," her nose crinkled as a devious smile spread across her lips. She wrapped her slender fingers around the rigid length of him, evident through his trousers. His eyelids fluttered. "How quick can you be?"

His hands were already brushing hers aside, unbuttoning his pants. "Oh, don't worry about that. This will be over much quicker than I'd like."

She giggled and he hushed her as he eased her skirts out of the way. She made a vague noise of confused protest when he turned her around, treading his hand between her legs from behind. Casting a bemused glance over her shoulder, she allowed him to manipulate her body, trusting him more than he felt he deserved. He would never do anything to hurt her, and they both knew that to be true.

Moving more hastily than he liked, his fingers tested her folds, only resting long enough to determine her body's readiness and deeming it adequate. He wanted her. _Badly_. But not at the expense of her comfort. A pleased, startled sound wound its way out of her throat when he entered her from behind.

"Oh!" she breathed, nearly undoing him with a sound.

Without prompting, she opened her hips, bending forward just enough to allow him unfettered access. He sank to the hilt, groaning in concert with his beloved. She angled back against him in an artless demand for more. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her steady as he thrust deep and quick into her accommodating body.

She quivered and strained, calves trembling as she stood up on her toes, grasping the clothing rod to keep her balance.

His own legs trembled. Their difference in height made this particular maneuver a challenge, but, _fuck it_ , he'd make due. Each stroke forced a puff of air from her lungs as a rising symphony of, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" punctuated the air. Blessedly, the dense walls of fabric absorbed her cries, lessening the need for silence. Cedric exalted in those sounds as they heralded her rising pleasure, spurring him to hold on just a little longer—

Just a little more—

As she began to cry out, she stuffed the sleeve of a brocade ball gown between her teeth. She bit down on the fabric with no regard for its expensive quality or the damage she was undoubtedly doing to it while she screamed between her teeth. The warm undulations of her body seemed to reach something deep inside him and _pulled_. He jerked against her, attempting valiantly to keep from toppling the both of them as his legs went weak with pleasure.

Seven. Months. He was never going to go seven _fucking_ months without her ever again.

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Author's Note: That's all folks. I wrote this in one sitting and just decided to go ahead and post it.

Reviews are always appreciated.


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